Normality
by FoxGlade
Summary: Yassen wanted normality. But others have different ideas for him. Lucky someone is trying to help him... but at what price?
1. Home

Sorry for the boring author's note. This is my first Alex Rider fanfic, as I've abandoned the Animorph archives. So… yeah.

Just wanted to say that this is a oneshot, though if a lot of people want me to expand it, I do have a vague plot stretched out for it. Just couldn't be bothered to write it all.

DISCLAIMER: Oh come on. You just have to look at the writing to know I'm not Anthony Horowitz. I could more easily pass for KA Applegate! Anyway, I don't own Alex or Yassen or K Unit (as much as I wish I did), but I do partially own Lily. Lisa, Tobias and I split the ownership.

**Normality**

Yassen Gregorovitch leant his head against the cool bathroom tiles, hot water pounding off his back before it turned lukewarm again. The pipes at his house in Australia took some getting used to, but this was what he wanted, right? Normality. That was why he'd pretended to be dead after the incident on Air Force One, so Scorpia and MI6 and the rest wouldn't track him down. The rest… like Alex Rider.

Quickly he turned off the taps and wrapped a towel around his muscular body. Even if he no longer worked as he used to, he still made a point of keeping in shape.

Treading softly towards his bedroom, he smiled at the sight of Lily, his fiancé, standing in the doorway of the nursery. Watching their nine month old son, no doubt.

Yassen reached out and pulled Lily into an embrace. There were many things he loved about her, from the fact that she never jumped, no matter how quietly he tiptoed up behind her, to her almost obsessive love of books (which normally manifested as strange quotes from obscure series). But the one thing he loved about her the most was the fact that she didn't care about his past occupation. She loved him anyway.

"He's growing," she remarked softly. Yassen smiled.

"Babies tend to do that," he replied. Lily gave a quick half grin, just as a knock came from the door. She hurried up the hall, calling quietly, "Make sure he doesn't wake up, I'll get it."

Yassen stepped into the soft green room and picked up his infant son, rocking him gently. How had he come this far? From cold assassin to loving husband-to-be and father. It was almost too good to-

The thought derailed as he heard Lily's piercing scream from the front door, followed by a sound that Yassen knew all too well.

A gunshot.

Quick as a cat, he placed his son back in the cot and sprinted to the front door where-

Oh God.

-Lily lay, eyes blank and lifeless, in a pool of rapidly spreading crimson.

"Lily!" he almost screamed, at her side in an instant. He felt for a pulse, any signs of breathing, anything to tell him she was not-

"Yassen Gregorovitch."

The man looked up at the sound of the name he abandoned years ago, in favour of the less conspicuous surname 'Daniels'. A large man in camouflage clothes was standing over him, his gun pointing straight at Yassen.

"Get up. Now."

Enraged, Yassen leapt at the man, only to be intercepted by another equally well built man who knocked his wild punch away and landed one of his own. Dazed, Yassen was seized by the arms and dragged away from the only home he'd known for the last two years.

And that's when he heard a pitiful wail drifted from the nursery.

"NO!" Yassen screamed, fighting against his captors desperately. "No, my son, my son is there! You can't leave him!"

He received no reply – only the cries of his infant child.

"No, Alex! NO! You can't leave him, no, Alex! ALEX!!"

When he finally realized that no amount of struggling would get him free, he collapsed, his expressionless assassin mask slipping away, leaving tears running down his face and sobs choking in his throat.

His beloved Lily was dead, his pride and joy Alex was being abandoned while he could do nothing – and only four minutes ago, he had been thinking that it was all too good to be true.

All he had wanted was normality. Was that so much to ask?

* * *

Reviews would be muy apreciado – much appreciated.

--FoxGlade


	2. Holding Cell

Hello again!

I apologize to the people who wanted this story to continue… I did have a vague outline of a plot line, but it took me a while to put it onto paper – er, Word document.

I also apologize for Lily's Mary Sue-ness in the last chapter. She was never going to live for that long anyway, so I decided, ah hell, why not.

I for the last time apologize for the OOC-ness. I suck at Horowitz writing style.

One last thing *groans* no I mean it this time. This is set 2 years after Eagle Strike, so Alex is 16.

DISCLAIMER: Alex, Yassen and Ben Daniels are still being rebelliously not mine. Damn fictional hot guys, they're all the same. Not mine.

---

Yassen was thrown into the painfully white holding cell of MI6, and hit the floor hard. The tears had stopped long ago, once again replaced by the good old expressionless mask of his inner assassin.

He stood up, dusted himself off, and glared at his captors until they locked the door and walked away. Immediately he started searching the cell for the cameras he was sure existed in the walls, ceiling and possibly even floor.

After ten minutes search and no find, he sat down, mostly to conserve his energy, but also to plan an escape out of here.

And just as he'd figured out something – admittedly, not the best plan ever – the door opened.

In walked a severe looking woman in a grey pant suit who smelled of peppermint. Yassen glared at her and for a moment she stared forcefully back, before she looked away with a sigh. That caught him off guard for a moment – did she sound regretful? That didn't really fit with the cold personality every MI6 agent he'd seen had.

_Alex wasn't cold_, a part of him argued. He repressed that part of him immediately, his son's name sending anger and pain flashing through him. Of course his son had been named after the boy. Something in his child's eyes had been reminiscent of the too young operative…

"Gregorovitch," The woman said flatly.

"Jones, I presume," the former assassin returned.

A silence fell for a few moments, before Mrs. Jones continued.

"The child." Yassen looked up sharply. "He wasn't left at the house. He's in MI6 custody."

Anyone else would have wept with relief at this statement. But Yassen was an assassin at heart, through and through, so while he rejoiced at his child's safety inside, he kept his face studiously blank.

"At the moment, he is under the care of," she gave a grim smile, "Agent Daniels. Apparently the irony was lost on Mr. Blunt," she added dryly.

Yassen almost smiled. Almost.

"Was there any particular reason to name your child Alex?" the woman asked. He looked at her, than looked away. "I understand you met Agent Rider on a number of missions before your supposed death," she continued.

"He's good at what he does," Yassen replied, somewhat bitterly. "Tell me, have you managed to get him killed yet?"

Mrs. Jones refused to meet the assassin's eyes as she said, "Agent Rider was killed on a mission one year ago."

Silence fell for a moment, before a low snarl was heard.

"You _bastards_," he growled. "You sent a 15 year old child to his death. How can you live with yourselves?"

"We're British, Mr. Gregorovitch," she said coolly. "We move on."

And with that, the deputy head of MI6 left the grieving former assassin on his own in the painfully white holding cell.

---

Damn. Sorry about killing Alex off – that was just always how I pictured this chapter to go down. I'll probably put another chapter up about Ben *squee!*, but don't hold your breath. I never really wanted to make this a multi shot.

Eh, _que sera sera_,_ c'est la vie_.

Reviews are my inspiration at the moment, so they are once again _muy apreciando!_

--Fox


	3. Surveillence

Ah, writer's block. My mortal enemy. I think this story is ending soon… enjoy it while you can.

Did anyone get the Doctor Who reference in the last chapter? In what Mrs. Jones said at the end? Never mind.

Dedicated to Ko-pia. I never thought of that, but now that you say it… thank you. You've given this story a new side.

---

The young man sat at a table in a café in New York, drumming his fingers on the table and absently noting every single person that walked by, inside the café or out. It was instinct these days.

Alex Rider was no longer a child. At sixteen, he had seen and done more in the last two year than most adults did in their entire lives. He had killed countless people, saved millions of lives, and most importantly, he had faked his own death.

It wasn't easy, but it was rewarding. Sometimes Alex wondered if this was what Yassen Gregorovitch had done, setting up that shot on Air Force One so he could be free of the assassin life. But he usually cut off the thought there, because he classed it as false hope [_even though he wasn't sure why or even what he hoped for_] and that was something he avoided at all cost, these days.

A small tinkling tune played from his phone and he flipped it open automatically, tearing his eyes away from a particularly shady looking man. The calendar had popped up, reminding him to "look out, Callum!". Alex smirked at the sight of his adopted name, which he had fashioned from his old SAS codename, Cub. Just a subtle hint to those who may be watching, a slight reminder of a past long gone.

Of course, the message wasn't a warning to stay on guard [_he hardly needed a reminder for that_] - it meant that it was time for a quick trip back to London so that he could hack into the MI6 camera systems – along with some other surveillance matters - and check that no one had recruited another child or something equally provoking.

Twice a year, Alex would board a plane in the guise of Callum Wolfe, a nineteen year old with dark brown hair and light blue eyes. Twice a year, he would set himself up an inconspicuous location near the Royal and General bank [_never the same place twice_], hack into it's surveillance system and check the place out for anything that he should be aware of – reports on his supposed reappearance, perhaps, or someone he knew to be innocent sitting in the MI6 holding cells.

And, twice a year, Alex would pack up his equipment, satisfied that the world inside the Royal and General was relatively acceptable [_for now_], and head to wherever it was that he decided to go next. Work and money were no problem for him. He was… multitalented, shall we say. Flexible in his choice of occupation.

The plane trip there was uneventful. Well, apart from a slight incident involving a young woman who thought Alex was well worth her time, that young woman's boyfriend who didn't take well to her flirting [_just a bit_], and a phone that was not destined for a long life, but apart from that, it was fine. The car trip from the airport was uneventful, and the finding of a hack spot was without problems. No, it wasn't until Alex actually set about his task that things started to go downhill.

A routine check of all the usual areas; Blunt's office, Smither's workshop, a couple of hallways, the holding cells –

His eyes narrowed. A figure was hunched in that cell, clad in dark clothes with a head of pale blonde hair. A strangely familiar figure, but one whom he hadn't seen in years…

"Yassen," he breathed, eyes wide. He allowed himself the luxury of a moment of shock, letting his senses dull for a brief fragment in time. But then the moment was gone, and he shook himself out of it. There was work to be done.

---

So, did I do it justice? Truth be told, I think this is one of the more well written chapters, and since I wrote it all in one go at 2 in the morning (2:09 am now), that makes me feel kind of sheepish.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! Can't wait 'till the proper morning, so I can open my present – CROCODILE TEARS!

This is my Christmas present to , along with the first chapter of my Alphabet Challenge story, Of Course. So, have a good one today.

--Fox


	4. Alex Daniels

*head desk* Well, Happy New Year everyone. And happy new decade. Here, have an update, on the house.

DISCLAIMER: why do I even bother? I think it's pretty damn obvious I don't own it.

---

Ben Daniels sat on the couch in his mostly empty lounge room, reflecting on the irony of life. Something he didn't really do on a regular basis, but certain events do bring the subject to mind… such as being assigned to care for the child of an assassin with his last name, and the first name of another child he once knew very well.

Alex Daniels. A strange coincidence, really. Ben hadn't been told much about the situation, but he knew that this kid was the child of Yassen Gregorovitch, who was currently in MI6 custody – which was strange in itself, because Gregorovitch had been pronounced dead two years ago. But faking your death wasn't that hard, he figured, especially if you were an expert assassin.

Alex stirred in his arms, and as he tightened his hold on the boy, Ben thought of his first name. Alex Rider had been pronounced missing, assumed dead, last year. Ben had been distraught for quite a while, mostly because he had promised himself that he would try and look out for the semi-agent. Telling K Unit was the worst, though. MI6 was going to send a brief note telling them that their fifth member had been killed in action, but Ben had taken it upon himself to tell them in person. They deserved that much.

He could remember _so clearly_ the look of shock on each of their faces when he told them that Cub, _their_ Cub, was dead. The way Wolf had punched the wall and stormed out without a word. The way Eagle had looked at him in confusion, head tilted to the side, refusing to believe him. The way Snake just accepted it, quietly sat down and mourned silently for the loss of a life.

Thinking about it now, he supposed it was possible that Alex had faked his death in the same way that Gregorovitch had, and was now living a normal life away from MI6. He hoped that was the case. Cub deserved to have something more in life than pain and death.

Adjusting the child in his arms, Ben stood up and made his way over to the hastily set up cot, which he placed the kid in. Looking at the sleeping child, he wondered if it was something more than coincidence that he came to be looking after a kid called Alex who looked quite a bit like the Cub he'd known. But then he shrugged. _Whatever will be, will be_, he thought wryly.

He thought briefly about what would happen if he was expected to care for the kid permanently. Strangely, the thought didn't sound as bad as he would have thought. If it did happen… Ben shrugged to himself again. He would raise the kid as if he were his own, he decided. He owed the first Alex that much.

And with that revelation out of the way, Ben went to sleep.

---

Yeah, I know. Short. But quality over quantity? The last two paragraphs took me ages to get right, and even now they don't look and sound as good as I wish they did.

Anyway, this chapter is really just a filler I wrote while procrastinating the Great Escape chapter. So, keep an eye out for that.

Oh, and reviews are appreciated, as they keep the story alive.

--Fox


End file.
